


Absolve

by Tashilover



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: False accusation of molestation, Premature child death, attempted suicide, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Martin wondered if he should have been a priest.</p><p>Based off a prompt in the CP meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolve

 

Sometimes Martin wondered if he should've been a priest. He was not particularly religious, nor did he have plans to stay celibate for the rest of his life. He only played with the idea of going into priesthood. Because for reasons unknown, people loved to talk to him.

He'd never invited them to spill their deepest, darkest secrets to him, never asked about their marriages or their kids. But for some strange reason, when perfect total strangers looked at him, they saw a man they could trust their secrets to. Someone who won't judge them or laugh at them.

It wasn't just strangers; family and friends too spilled their guts to him, finding solace in his mere presence. He might've been annoyed by this odd attention, but nobody ever demanded anything from him except a willing ear. They talked, so he listened.

Who knew it took the near death of Arthur for Carolyn and Douglas to confess to him?

"I tried to kill myself when I was twenty-five."

Martin knew what this was coming even before Carolyn opened her mouth. It was a defense mechanism, he learned from all his years of experience: the necessity to talk. It was better to say something than to leave such thoughts in your head, floating around.

Instead of saying something sympathetic, Martin merely reached over and grasped Carolyn's hand, squeezing it lightly. Her eyes never strayed from Arthur's face.

It was horrible to see him like that, pale and weak, with an oxygen mask over his mouth to help him breath. Martin wished the doctors gave Arthur a room with a window. At least then they could open it and let some fresh air in.

"Arthur was not my first child," Carolyn continued. "My first son, William, was prematurely born. His lungs were underdeveloped, his bones were brittle. The doctors did their best, but... he barely lasted two weeks."

She reached up and brushed away a loose strand of hair from Arthur's face.

"My first husband thought it was something I did, that it was my fault somehow. And I believed every word that came out of his mouth. With my son gone and my husband as well, I didn't see the point. A month after I buried William, I went home and swallowed a whole bottle of pain pills."

Martin was proud he kept his voice steady. It never did anyone good if he started crying as well. "What happened?"

"My best friend Nessa found me. She took me to the hospital, got me the help I needed. It was a hard battle she fought for me, years of her life she dedicated to keeping me alive. She stopped when she heard I was pregnant with Arthur. She knew I had something to live for now."

She pulled her hand away from Martin's.

"But if Arthur dies," Carolyn said with a bitter coldness to her tone. "Do not make a fuss over me. I'm an old lady, just leave me be."

 

 

 

If there was anyone to keep a secret from him, Martin thought it would have been Douglas. There were so many layers to the man, Martin was sure even if he knew him for a hundred years, he wouldn't know half of his personality.

In the end, like everyone in this world, Douglas was only human.

"I almost lost my daughter once. Not to disease or injury, but to her mother."

He sounded so very casual, like he was talking about the weather or sports. It would have been disturbing, if Martin hadn't already experienced this type of conversation with dozens before him.

"My second wife suffered from schizophrenia. At the time of our divorce, I didn't know- she was not diagnosed, I didn't know. We were fighting all the time, over every single stupid thing. The dishes, the furniture, the fucking car. When it was time to discuss visitation rights, did you know what she planned to do, what she had already done? Accuse me of molesting our daughter."

It surprised Martin, always, of how much information people divulged to him. It surprised him because he never knew what to say in such situations. In the dozens of confessions Martin has been privy to, there was always something new thrown his way.

Hearing Douglas was once accused of paedophelia was hard to swallow. "What happened?" Martin urged.

Douglas brushed away a few quick tears. "Her dad, my father-in-law, he noticed something was wrong. If it wasn't for him, if he hadn't urged her to get help, she would have told the judge I was a molester. I would have lost everything, Martin. My daughter, my reputation, my job- God! It still angers me today of how close that got. If she had gone through with it, if my daughter had to spend her life thinking I molested her, I-"

Douglas cut himself off there, swallowing thickly. When he spoke again, he sounded broken. "I would not be able to handle it."

Martin found men were less inclined to admit suicidal tendancies than women. This was probably the closest Douglas would ever admit to wanting to kill himself.

After that, Douglas avoided Martin for a bit, as many people do when they realized they just revealed something extremely personal in a moment of pure emotion. Many of them admitted they said things to Martin, things they never would dare say to their family, friends, OR preist.

Martin did not judge, because he had no right to. He would not bring up the subject again unless Douglas wanted to.

 

 

 

"One of use should take her home."

"She'll want to be here when Arthur wakes up."

"Look at her, Douglas. Her neck is going to cramp up. Just for a few hours. One of us can stay here and call if something happens."

Douglas sighed tiredly. "You're right," he said, groaning lightly as he stood up from his own chair. Several bones popped. "Ugh, if this is how I feel like..."

Douglas shuffled to Carolyn's sleeping form and studied her for a minute. He then swooped down, put his arms underneath her back and knees and lifted her gently.

Carolyn made the smallest of sounds but did not wake. She looked so small in Douglas' arms.

"Door," Douglas mouthed.

Martin opened the hospital door, allowing them to pass. "I'll call if something happens," Martin whispered again, closing the door behind them. Rubbing a tired eye, he took Carolyn's vacant seat by Arthur's bed.

His ass was sore from sitting down all day long. He should stand for a while, give his bum a chance to rest. Just as Maritn made the movement to get back up, Arthur murmured tiredly, "Skip...?"

Martin gasped. "Arthur? Arthur, oh my god, you're awake?"

Arthur blinked. It was like he was rousing himself from a deep sleep rather than a coma. When he spoke again, his voice was stronger. "What happened?"

"Somebody spilled their drink at the airport. You didn't see it in time and slipped and hit your head. You've been unconscious for the past ten hours."

"I have? Wow." He peered around the room. "Where's mum?"

"She's- oh damn! I just got Douglas to send her home to sleep. Give me a moment, I'll call him-"

"Don't," Arthur said, holding up a hand. "No, let my mum rest. I know she's been through a lot today. I don't want to worry her more."

"I promised Douglas-"

"Please, Martin."

Arthur hardly ever called Martin by his name. It sounded weird. With a exacerbated sigh, he shut his phone. He knew he was going to get grief from Douglas later. "How do you feel?"

"Stiff," Arthur admitted, shifting uncomfortably on the hospital bed. "Not in pain, though. What about mum? Is she okay?"

"She's fine."

"She didn't contemplate suicide, did she?"

Martin's throat went dry. "I... a little."

"That's what I was afraid of. She told me once, if she ever lost me, she wouldn't be able to go on. I learned that on the day I tried to kill myself."

Tears were streaming down's Martin's face. Even if he lived to be a thousand years old, never ever would Martin think Arthur to be suicidal. Arthur, the happiest, most cheerful man in the world. It made no sense.

"I was eleven," Arthur said tiredly. He poked at the bandaged around his head. "Mum and dad were fighting all the time, all because of me. I wasn't do well in school, I had a hard time understanding. I could see in their faces how frustrating this was to them, how much stress it put on them, to look at my grades and... know how much of a failure I was. So I started thinking to myself, 'maybe if I was gone, mum and dad would be happier. They wouldn't fight. And maybe they'll try again, and this time, have a son they could be  _proud_  of.'"

Arthur shrugged, like thinking back to his childhood suicide attempt was no big thing. It made Martin want to stop Arthur, slap a hand over his mouth and beg him not to speak. But he knew Arthur will continue talking. All of them always continued talking.

"So I took a knife," Arthur said. "Went to the bathroom and held my arm over the tub. Just as I pressed the knife to my wrist, the door swung open. Mum was there. I forgot to lock the door.

"She slapped the knife out of my hand and demanded to know what was I doing. Why was I doing it. When I told her, this horrible look was on her face. I never want to see her look like that again. Mum held me close and begged me to never try again, that if I succeeded, she would follow me. So... I never tried again."

He shrugged once more. "If you have to call my mum, Skip, tell her that I'm okay. She doesn't need to worry."

"Okay," Martin nearly choked. The emotional whiplash he had today was draining him. "I will."

"Also," Arthur murmured, a little embarrassed this time. "Could you... could you get me a Toblerone? I'm really, really, really in the mood for one."

"Arthur, I'm not sure that's allowed-"

"Please?"

Oh no, he was pulling the giant puppy eyes. There was no way Martin could resist.

He wiped his eyes, composed himself better and said, "Alright. I'll go down to the hospital shop and see if they have one."

 

 

 

Martin bought Arthur's Toblerone, but didn't go back to him immediately. He got himself a soda- two of them- and drank them in a desperate need for sugar and caffeine. After the day he had, a cold beverage was exactly what the doctor ordered.

There were quite a few stories Martin's heard, stories that made him cry, made him question the world around him and his place in it. Though his life wasn't perfect, he considered himself lucky to never been pushed as far as his friends.

It made Martin want to cry all over again. Knowing a strong woman like Carolyn, a smooth talker like Douglas, and the happiest person in the world had considered suicide. Even after hearing their stories, Martin could not believe them. It didn't feel real. Even after years of experience he had with confessions, people kept surprising him.

Martin looked down at the chocolate in his hand and for billionth time in his life, considered priesthood. 


End file.
